


I belong in your arms

by SnowyScales



Series: You Are My All [3]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, accidental cock-blocking, little my doesn't get paid enough for this nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyScales/pseuds/SnowyScales
Summary: A few short hours after "but with a breath", Snufkin wakes up, talks with Moomin some more about their engagement, and has breakfast with his family.





	I belong in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem [I belong in your arms by Deborah Bridea](https://www.hitched.co.uk/wedding-planning/wedding-poems/i-belong-in-your-arms-by-deborah-bridea/)

Snufkin woke slowly, sleep clinging desperately to him like molasses on a duck. He let out a discontented groan into the soft fluffy pillow he was laying on. He was _wet_. Had his tent ripped while he was setting up, and he hadn’t noticed before falling asleep? He let out another groaning whine as he snuggled deeper into his warm soft pillow.

 

The pillow breathed.

 

Snufkin woke sharp and sudden as a spring shower. He didn’t have a fluffy pillow. He forced sleep-crusted eyes open and glanced blearily down. The pillow was… Moomin? What on – oh, oh yes. Memories flooded Snufkin’s mind.

 

It was the first day of spring, he had arrived at dawn this morning, eagerly early after a torturous winter wondering what Moomin’s answer would be to his proposal. Moomin had said _yes_! They’d laughed and they’d cried, and they’d fallen asleep together on grass still wet with snow-melt and morning dew. Good grief, it’s a wonder they hadn’t been rained on yet.

 

In the distance he could hear his sister shrilly shouting about wanting to help make breakfast. So they’d likely slept only a few hours. Still, he should wake Moomin up; it’s just not healthy to sleep on wet grass.

 

“Moomin,” he whispered, gently stroking a finger along the delicate edge of one large white ear. It fluttered under his gentle ministrations and Moomin let out an unhappy grumble. “Moomintroll,” Snufkin crooned, “Moomin, wake up.”

 

Moomin cracked open a baleful bleary eye. “Hi, Snufkin,” he grumbled. A moment passed, then Moomin jerked up and with a great joyful cry of “Snufkin!” he toppled him back into the wet grass. “You’re here! You’re really here! I though it was a dream! I’m still really mad at you! But oh, I do love you so.” He punctuated his words with delighted kisses to Snufkin’s face.

 

“I love you too, Moomin, but we should probably get out of the grass before we catch our death of cold.” Snufkin levered himself up with a pained groan. Oh, his spine. Then he extended his hand, and pulled Moomin up also.

 

Moomin stared at their joined paws; at the golden ring around his finger, and the unadorned fingers of Snufkin’s hand. “Hey, Snufkin, there’s something I need to show you in my room.”

 

“Surely it’s a bit early in the day for that, isn’t it?” Snufkin drawled, eyes twinkling as Moomin thumped him in the chest.

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” He blushed, covering his hot cheeks at the implication of Snufkin’s words.

 

“Sorry, sorry; couldn’t help myself,” Snufkin laughed. “You’re too cute when you’re flustered.”

 

Moomin’s ears flicked back and he let out a noise like a tea-kettle hitting boiling point, then started walking to moominhouse. Snufkin watched him with soft eyes, before letting out a small chuckle and following. Moomin really was terribly cute when embarrassed.

 

He followed Moomin up the rope ladder at the side of the house, and through the window to his bedroom. Moomin took something from his bedside table and started pacing back and forth, ears pressed back to his skull, and tail lashing furiously behind him, muttering incomprehensibly.

 

“I have…” Moomin trailed off. “I don’t…” Moomin took a deep fortifying breath. “Do you even _want_ an engagement or wedding ring, Snufkin?”

 

Snufkin sucked in a shaky breath, took Moomin by the shoulders, looked at him with large dark eyes, and then spoke a word that left Moomin shaken to the core, “ _ **Fuck**_. Yes.”

 

Moomin felt his jaw drop, and he stared aghast. Slowly a furious red began to creep up Snufkin’s face, as he stared back at Moomin in fellow shock at his own words. Snufkin pulled his hat further down his head and buried his face in his hands, muttering embarrassed apologies about his terrible language.

 

“So is… that a yes?” Moomin ventured hopefully, ears perking up.

 

“Yes,” Snufkin weakly croaked from behind his hands. He looked up, face still terribly red. “I just… I want everybody outside of Moomin Valley to know that I’m taken. I want every single person I meet on my travels to take one look at me and know immediately that I am completely and utterly, irrevocably, disgustingly, in love.”

 

A hot heavy feeling rose in Moomin’s chest; he swallowed thickly, feeling a prickling wetness in the corners of his eyes and a familiar rising heat in cheeks. One-handedly he grabbed a pillow from his bed, held it to his face, and let out a long, low scream into it.

 

“You can’t say things like that!” Moomin cried out. “I can’t… It’s too much! How am I supposed to give you your ring if you keep making me cry!”

 

“My… ring?” Snufkin repeated slowly, consideringly. “Moomin, what is in your paw?”

 

Moomin rubbed the wetness from his eyes, took a hitching breath, and held out his paw. Held between his short stubby fingers was a ring; made of wood, and burnished to a gorgeous honey-gold shine.

 

“It’s beautiful,” breathed Snufkin, voice warm and soft and awed. He knew from experience just how long it took to burnish wood to such a sheen. He felt warm and squishy inside at the subtle sign of Moomin’s affections. “Put it on me?”

 

Moomin shakily took his hand, and with a breathless sigh he slipped the simple wooden ring onto Snufkin’s finger. He looked up from their joined hands, a small self-satisfied smile on his lips and eyes dark and intently in a way that made a low squirming warmth settle in Snufkin’s gut, and his vision become sharper as his pupils dilated.

 

The fur at the back of Snufkin’s neck prickled and the world seemed to pause, breathlessly waiting. Moomin cupped his face with one hand, thumb stroking across his cheekbone. He leaned in slowly and deliberately, tilting Snufkin’s head just so. Snufkin’s eyes slowly fell closed as hot puffs of breath gusted against his lips, and then -

 

“Hey, losers, get down here, breakfast is ready!”

 

The spell broke. Moomin pulled away with a self-conscious cough, and fluttered about his room rearranging his knick-knacks until he had calmed down enough to speak.

 

Finally he turned back to Snufkin. “Shall we?” he asked with a tremulous voice.

 

Snufkin quickly agreed, but as they left the room he noticed a picture by the door that had not been there when he left for the winter. With a start, he realised that he recognised the picture frame’s contents.

 

“Moomin, did you frame my letter?!” he asked incredulously.

 

Moomin scoffed, looking at him with narrow eyes. “Of course I did! That letter was the single most disgustingly romantic thing you have ever done and I hate you for it, you absolute dick.”

 

“Thought you liked my penis,” Snufkin mused quietly.

 

“Not in my parent’s house!” Moomin half-screeched, eyes darting frantically about as if one of them or My would magically appear before them.

 

“Not what you said before winter,” Snufkin muttered back, greatly enjoying the look on Moomin’s face. For not the first time, he wondered if heads could spontaneously combust.

 

Little My, standing out of sight at the bottom of the staircase, palmed her face. These dumb-ass boys; there were some things a lady just wasn’t meant to know about her brother. Oh the tribulations of being an older sister.

 

“Come on, move it!” she shouted up the stairs at them, before storming to the dining table. Moominmamma and Moominpappa shared an amused knowing smile over her head.

 

The boys soon joined them, and they all dished out generous helpings of delicious pancakes slathered in an array of last years jams and topped with matching preserved fruits.

 

As they were about to tuck into their food, My suddenly screeched. “What are those?!” She gestured violently at their paws; or, more specifically, the rings on their fingers.

 

“Oh, Snufkin asked me to marry him when he left for the winter,” Moomin spoke airily, as if discussing something as unimportant as the weather.

 

“Congratulations, darlings,” Moominmamma said, as she gently thumped a choking My, who had swallowed a raspberry wrong, on the back.

 

“Yes, indeed, Moominmamma,” Moominpappa agreed, peering curiously at their rings. “What spectacular choices of wood you each made, my boys. And I can see just how much you both adore each other from how lovingly polished they are. Marvellous, absolutely marvellous.”

 

Snufkin could feel a pleased flush spread across his cheeks, and a quick glance at Moomin proved that he too was feeling the same. Eventually they continued eating, chatting casually all the while about the specifics of his proposal.

 

“Oh, by the way Moomin, do you know where my saucepans are? I was thinking of making some boiled eggs for a light lunch, but I can’t seem to find them.”

 

Moomin levelled wide eyes at Snufkin. They’d forgotten the pans in the field!


End file.
